


X?

by Laramie



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-05-04 04:37:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5320733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laramie/pseuds/Laramie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jimmy calls a phone sex line.</p><p>This fic comes from a prompt that abbys-jam-juggler reblogged. The second part only got done thanks to the various prompts and great encouragement from the Cabin Pressure fandot and jay-eagle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Some swearing.

When the coordinator puts him through, the first thing Jimmy hears is: "Hey, handsome. I'm Mark." Mark has a distinct Mancunian accent, which Jimmy finds oddly appealing.

"I'm Jimmy."

"You - Is that your real name?"

"Of course it is! … Um. Shouldn't I tell you that?"

"Well. Most people don't."

"Oh. Sorry. Wait, is Mark _your_ real name?"

"Of course not. Shall we get started?"

"You don't have to sound so businesslike."

There's a moment's pause. When not-Mark speaks again, Jimmy can almost hear the smile in his voice. "So you want me to be sweet with you?"

"I… n-no, I just…"

"You do! Ey, nothin' wrong with that, love. Bet you'd like me to start with kissin' you."

"Yeah…" Jimmy agrees, closing his eyes in his bedroom to picture it. His parents are away for the weekend, so there's no danger of being interrupted. He's sitting in his armchair with his laptop, which contains a half-finished essay for uni, by his feet, and wondering whether he should relocate to his bed.

"Sweetly, if ya like," Mark continues. "Slowly. Enough to drive you mad. I'll lick into your mouth and take your hand, put it on my chest."

Jimmy finds himself making a quiet noise of approval.

"You like that?" Mark asks. "You want me to be a Dom?"

"I don't really…"

"Maybe not that far… Ya want me to be in charge, I mean?"

Jimmy shivers at this and manages to whisper: "Yeah. A bit." He's already way more affected by this conversation than he should be.

"Then I'll put my hands on your hips, pull you in closer. Kiss you harder."

Jimmy's hand creeps into his cargo trousers; he rubs himself slowly through his boxers.

"We'll press our bodies together. You'll feel me against you."

A little hum escapes Jimmy before he can stop it.

"Are you touching yourself, Jimmy?"

Jimmy suddenly feels silly, but his hand doesn't stop moving. "Uh… No."

Exasperation crackles down the phoneline. "Bearing in mind that that's the whole point of this call."

"Um… Maybe. _Mmh_ … Please just keep talking… You've got the sexiest fuckin' voice…"

There's a whooshing noise like Mark has just snorted lightly through his nose. "Glad to hear it."

"What's your real name?" Jimmy asks, still touching himself, his head tipping back.

The hesitation is just a little too long before the answer comes: "Scott."

Jimmy lets it go, then lets go entirely, allowing Mark/Scott/whoever to talk him into intense pleasure.

 

* * *

 

"Well, thanks for calli-"

"Is Scott your real name?" It seems to suit him better than Mark. Jimmy prefers to think of him that way.

A chuckle. "Of course not."

"Why won't you tell me?"

"Look, Jimmy… I know people say your first time should be special but -"

"Who says it's my first time?"

" _Everything_ about you says it's your first time. And that's okay. You don't have to wait for it to be special and perfect or anything. You don't have to make _this_ all special and perfect. It's okay if it's just… okay."

"I don't think anyone's ever told me it has to be special," Jimmy says, confused.

For a moment, Scott's quiet. "I suppose people say it to girls more than boys, but still. People said it to me."

"Is your family really religious or something?" Jimmy asks with a grin.

"Nah."

"Why d'you call yourself Mark?"

"Mark Ruffalo," he says simply.

Jimmy searches for his cigarettes in the spaces between himself and the armchair, then spots them on his bedside table and gives up on them, relaxing deeper into the chair. "So do you look like him?"

"Nah, not at all. I just like the Avengers."

"And why Scott?"

"John Barrowman's husband is called Scott."

"Who?"

"The guy who played Captain Jack in Doctor Who."

"I don't watch it," Jimmy confesses.

They end up talking about sci-fi, fantasy and TV in general for nearly twenty minutes, before Jimmy remembers that he's paying a lot of money for this phone call and wraps it up. He tries asking for Scott's mobile number, but Scott says: "Sorry, I'm not allowed to give out my personal details to clients."

The comment brings Jimmy back to reality; this isn't a normal first meeting. Maybe Scott talks like this with most of his... clients.

But then, with most clients he calls himself Mark. Doesn't he?

 

* * *

 

Jimmy calls back. More than once - more than twice. A lot more, in fact. But he doesn't like to keep a count. He calls when his parents are at a dinner party, or visiting his aunt, or even on one hasty occasion when they've gone to the supermarket. Jimmy always asks for Mark, using the name Scott had first given him, but sometimes Scott isn't there and Jimmy has to listen to someone else. It's not the same, though. He only does that twice; after that, he hangs up if Scott isn't working.

He tries, desperately, to make himself _different_. Different to Scott's other clients, that is. Special. He wants to stand out. So he tries not to complain about how stressful uni is, and how much he hates his part-time job, because he has learned that people often call for company rather than sex; and often, that means venting. So Jimmy doesn't. Instead, they talk about the Avengers, and Jimmy's progress with watching Doctor Who ("That Slitheen thing's come back"), and the ridiculous things Jimmy's fellow students do.

Four months go by like that. The essay that Jimmy had been procrastinating on when he first called has long been finished, handed in, and marked. Jimmy stops asking Scott to get him off - it doesn't feel right. Instead, they just talk. Scott is spectacularly good at not revealing things about himself. Jimmy knows he's a uni student, but not where or what he's studying, and that he has just turned twenty-seven (his birthday was in March), and that he has a lot of opinions about queer representation in sci-fi, but that's about it - other than things like who his favourite Doctor is (John Pertwee, followed by Patrick Troughton) and which Marvel character he thinks is the cutest (Matt Murdock). It only makes Jimmy desperate to know more.

During his final exam, Jimmy suddenly freezes, stares unseeingly at his exam paper and thinks: "God fucking damn it, I _really_ like him." He has to fight not to say it aloud, wrestling his attention back to the exam.

That evening, he asks Scott for his number again, and after the most tense pause in existence, Scott agrees.

"Just don't call me now," he says. "I'm at work. Obviously."

When Jimmy has the number, he immediately plugs it into WhatsApp. Scott's profile picture is a black cat. His name is "NiceTry Jimmy".

 **Oh, fuck you** _,_ he types.

Scott sends him a winking emoji.

 

* * *

 

Scott's a bit more forthcoming on his personal number. Jimmy soon learns that he only lives half an hour's drive away from Jimmy himself; though of course, Jimmy doesn't have a car. It's more like an hour by bus.

He spends his days talking to Scott, drinking with his friend Alfred and trying to figure out what on earth he's going to do with his life. Or at least his summer.

While he's still scraping through on his part-time job (which refuses to give him full-time hours), he asks Scott if he wants to meet up.

"Erm… I'm more of a… long-distance person."

"You only live half-an-hour down the road," Jimmy points out. "…Don't you?"

"Yeah, yeah… Alright. I-I would… like to see you."

They make arrangements for a few days time, and just as Jimmy's about to hang up, Scott says: "Wait - Jimmy!"

"Yeah?"

"My real name's Thomas."

Before Jimmy can reply, he hears the click of the phone being put down.

Alone in his bedroom, Jimmy grins.

 

* * *

 

The first time Jimmy sees Scott - Thomas - in the corner of the town square where they agreed to meet, he's certainly not disappointed. He's a little taller than Jimmy, with dark hair, gorgeous blue eyes and a rather defiant-looking posture: hands in the pockets of his denim jacket and his chin high. He is extremely attractive.

When Thomas catches sight of him, the slight iciness in his expression melts. "Jimmy," he says, half a greeting, half a request for confirmation. It simultaneously confirms Thomas's identity to Jimmy.

"Fuck, you're pretty," he blurts out.

Thomas frowns. "Don't call me that."

"Um. Sorry. It's good to see you, though - properly. Instead of your cat."

"You too. Not that I've ever seen your cat."

"I don't have one."

"Exactly! How inconsiderate of you."

Jimmy can't tear his eyes away from Thomas's face. "You don't seem like much of a Dom," he says, having googled the term since Thomas had mentioned it in their first phone call.

"I'm really not," Thomas agrees. "I just read the scripts they give me. I'm more of an equal-partnership kind of bloke - which I know that kind of relationship is supposed to be anyway, but you know what I mean."

"Yeah," Jimmy says vaguely. "Shall we go?" They're here to see _Star Wars_.

 

* * *

 

They spend the film leaning unnecessarily close to each other to exchange comments. After a while, Thomas takes his hand and Jimmy tries to hide that he's grinning enough to split his face.

Afterwards there is laughing and smoking and Subway sandwiches and snogging and serious conversations about _Star Wars_ on a bench in the city centre, and finally Jimmy reluctantly says that he ought to go home.

"Er, you can… you can come back to mine for a bit if you want."

Jimmy tries to play it cool. "Sounds good."

They take the bus; it's only a ten-minute journey. They don't speak much.

Thomas lives in a small flat on his own, near to the university. He lets Jimmy in with a sheepish smile, not looking at him. There's a strange fear lurking in his expression; Jimmy keeps his distance, wondering why Thomas is quite so nervous.

"D'you want anything to drink?"

"No, thanks."

"You sure?"

"Yeah." Jimmy watches Thomas moving around his kitchen, pouring coca-cola into a glass. When Thomas finally turns around, meets his eyes and smiles, Jimmy ambles over, gently touches his wrist and draws him into a slow kiss.

For a perfect minute or so, Thomas kisses him back, but eventually, he steps away. "I need to tell you something. Er, it's about me."

Jimmy sees Thomas's throat bob as he swallows, sees that his hands are trembling.

"Fuck," he mutters, bringing up one of his shaking hands to rub his eyes.

Jimmy takes his hand and strokes it with his thumb. "What's up?"

"I'm, er… I'm transgender. I'm a trans man."

Jimmy lets Thomas's hand slip from his grip, shocked. "What?"

"I'm… a boy who was born without a dick or a Y chromosome."

Jimmy just stares at him. Because he _is_ a him, isn't he?

"Say _something_."

"Um," Jimmy says. He scratches his head and he can sort of see it, though he would never have guessed it. "So you were born a girl?" he says, to make sure he's got it right.

Thomas grimaces. "Ugh, kind of. I prefer to say I'm a man without a Y chromosome. I-I've been on T for three years, seven months -"

"T?"

"Sorry, Testosterone. And I had top surgery last year," he passes one hand over his chest, "so that's, that's - what you'd expect. But - "downstairs", I haven't had anything done, and I don't want to, so, yeah." He chuckles weakly. "That's me."

Jimmy buries the fear that he has no idea what to do and takes a few deep breaths. He decides not to care about what's in Thomas's pants, because what's currently in his face is panic, and Jimmy doesn't ever want to make him feel like that. "It's okay," he says lightly. "I've got a mole on my thigh."

Thomas's lips twitch upwards, even though he's still shivering as if with cold. "What?"

"Just thought I'd let you know what to expect, since you did the same for me."

Thomas's face blossoms into a grin. "You are brilliant," he murmurs.

Jimmy's smile makes it difficult to kiss properly, but he certainly gives it a good go.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut.

They wind up, eventually, in Thomas's bedroom. Jimmy has already decided, in the privacy of his own head, that he'll stay over if Thomas asks, so he's in no hurry. Thomas doesn't seem to feel like rushing either, so they take their time, exploring each other's bodies slowly. Jimmy's careful to keep his concerns to himself, but he's still digesting the news that Thomas is trans. It's a lot to take in when this is Jimmy's first time with anyone.

Thomas backs towards his bed with Jimmy attached to his lips, sits down and pauses there a moment to smile up at Jimmy. The smile calms some of Jimmy's fears. He sinks to the floor at Thomas's feet and kisses his knees through his trousers. His hands slip around the back and slide over the curve of Thomas's calves. The material feels rough under his hands. Jimmy slips his index finger into the back of Thomas's sock and pulls down, easing it over Thomas's heel. The pad of his finger brushes over Thomas's warm sole as he pulls the fabric further, making Thomas jerk a little. Jimmy look up at him, smiling delightedly.

"You're ticklish."

Thomas gives a mock frown. "Am not."

"You _are_ ," Jimmy murmurs, and for some reason the revelation feels wondrous. He drops his gaze to the bare skin he has uncovered, the dusting of hair on top reassuringly masculine. Jimmy never has felt anything sexual for a woman.

He turns his attention to the other foot, drags the fabric covering away from this one too. And there are Thomas’s feet, hanging pale against the charcoal duvet, uncovered. It feels surprisingly intimate. “Have you done this before?” he asks, surprising himself. He doesn’t look up from Thomas’s ankles.

“Yes,” Thomas says, after only a moment’s pause.

“I haven’t.”

“I know.” Thomas’s hand reaches out to caress Jimmy’s cheek. “Don’t worry about it. Just do what feels right.”

Jimmy looks up at him and Thomas smiles again, and Jimmy’s worries are swept away in a rush of pure want. He flies to his feet to be able to reach to pull Thomas into a desperate kiss. They rock against each other, push and pull, Jimmy gripping Thomas’s shoulder so tightly it must be painful. Jimmy feels hot all over, hot and shivery and somehow his t-shirt is coming off over his head. This breaks the kiss, and Thomas turns his head to drop the shirt carelessly on the carpet.

The duvet cover wrinkles as Thomas shuffles back onto the bed properly, sitting up against the headboard and taking Jimmy’s hand to pull him along. Jimmy crawls up and kneels next to Thomas and kisses him again, chastely. The kiss gets sloppy as Jimmy starts unbuttoning Thomas’s shirt (so many buttons, why so many?). The sensation of Thomas’s hands on Jimmy’s bare waist, stomach, back, sets him panting. He leaves Thomas’s mouth to press his lips against the skin he’s uncovering, bit by bit. Lips and tongue coasting down the centre line of Thomas’s chest and down his soft stomach, getting as far as his bellybutton before Thomas pulls the shirt out of his trousers, something Jimmy had been too distracted to think of, and over his own head.

Jimmy falters at the sight of Thomas’s chest, the long, fading scars along the line of his pectorals. It’s not that it puts him off, but it underlines that Thomas’s experiences are very different to his own. He can’t even imagine what it must have been like, to be cut open and scraped out and sewn up. Thomas’s chest looks like any other man’s now, bar the scars.

Jimmy gets a hold of himself and kisses the centre of Thomas’s chest. “You’re very hot,” he says, and Thomas’s face, which had filled with worry, lights up.

“C’mere,” Thomas murmurs, encouraging Jimmy to straddle him with the pressure of his hands on Jimmy’s waist.

For some reason, Jimmy wants to just lean in, press their chests together and hug Thomas for a while. But that feels too girly and silly, and anyway he’s hard and eager for more - more touch, more kisses, more of Thomas’s skin. So instead he puts his hand over Thomas’s heart, wiry-soft hairs tickling his palm as he slides it far enough to the side to rub Thomas’s nipple with his thumb.

It looks as though Thomas is about to speak, but then he closes his mouth. He looks nervous again.

“What?”

“I… I don’t actually have any sensation there.”

“Oh… okay.” Jimmy moves his hand to Thomas’s hip and smirks. “ _I_ like it, though.”

Thomas smiles darkly back at him and flips them over. There’s a wild, heart-stopping second where Jimmy half-thinks he’ll fall off the edge of the bed, but Thomas lands him safely on his back and the adrenaline of the moment is only heightened by feeling Thomas’s mouth on him, the hard point of his tongue flicking across the hard point of Jimmy’s nipple. A sound escapes from the back of Jimmy’s throat, low and appreciative. He has never - he has _never_ had someone do this to him before. He could never have anticipated how different it would be to touching himself alone - how different, even, to touching himself with Thomas’s delicious voice in his ear. Now that mouth isn’t just shaping words, it’s busy on his skin, shaping his need into a fine, sharp point that digs at his insides insistently.

As Thomas brings in a hint of teeth, Jimmy finds himself making a strange, “ _ah-h!_ ” noise, lifting his hips to rub against Thomas, even with their trousers separating them. His hands are grasping at Thomas’s shoulders, hair, any part he can reach.

Thomas’s mouth travels further down Jimmy’s body. Jimmy feels self-conscious for the lack of hair on his stomach; he loves seeing that trail of hair on others, but there’s nothing resembling it on his own body. His entire torso is almost hairless. Thomas seems not to mind, licking the abdomen muscles Jimmy’s actually proud of. Jimmy’s so busy enjoying _that_ that he only notices Thomas is unbuttoning his cargo trousers when the backs of Thomas’s fingers brush his erection. The fly undone, Thomas tugs at the waistband, and Jimmy helps him by pushing down his trousers and boxers.

“Oh -” Thomas says, watching as Jimmy’s cock appears. “Not hanging around, eh?”

Jimmy wonders if he should have been more teasing, left his boxers on for a bit longer. He wonders if he’s made a rookie mistake and killed the mood.

Another smile curves Thomas’s lips as he glances up at Jimmy’s face. “Don’t look so worried. ‘Sfine.” His gaze drops back to Jimmy’s body and he strokes a small circle with his index finger on Jimmy’s inner thigh. “And here’s that mole,” he adds, sounding oddly pleased.

Jimmy cannot take it any more. He flips them over again so that he himself is on top, kissing Thomas fiercely and fumbling with his trouser fastenings. They suddenly seem much more complicated than they ought to be. Jimmy catches his breath, almost grinding to a halt, when Thomas wraps his long-fingered hand around Jimmy’s erection and strokes him steadily. Jimmy’s arms break out in goosebumps. His hands shake slightly as he glides the zipper to the bottom.

Excitement wars with nerves inside Jimmy. The echo of Thomas voice reminds Jimmy: _“downstairs”, I haven’t had anything done_. Jimmy doesn’t know what he’s going to find once he’s got Thomas naked. He goes on, though, stripping Thomas completely, and hesitates when he looks at Thomas’s crotch. Thomas’s cock is only an inch long. Jimmy’s slightly ashamed of his impulse to laugh. He feels like he’s looking at a 12-year-old’s cock on a 27-year-old’s body. And Thomas has no testicles.

“Y’alright?”

When Jimmy looks up he sees Thomas’s face, twisted with anxiety, Thomas’s beautiful grey eyes, Thomas’s sensual red mouth, the slight definition in his arms; he sees Thomas’s chest, his stomach, the trail of hair. It doesn’t matter what his cock looks like. Jimmy’s own is aching for want of him. “I’m doing great,” he says, leaning forward for another kiss as his hand reaches for Thomas. It takes him a moment to organise himself, to find a good way of curling his forefinger around Thomas’s cock to stroke him, and the kiss breaks up while he’s adjusting. “Is - is that - okay?”

“Mm, s’good,” Thomas breathes, his eyes slipping shut for a moment. “ _Little_ tighter - _yes_ , like that.” He leans up to kiss Jimmy’s neck while he wraps a hand back around Jimmy’s erection in turn. Jimmy’s throat is flushed and hot and Thomas sucks a love bite into it. It makes Jimmy groan. His hand around Thomas speeds up; he’s close, and unconsciously seeking more stimulation by giving it to Thomas. Thomas speeds up too, and whispers against heated skin: “Next time I’ll get my mouth around you,” and Jimmy’s stomach tightens, and he comes. He keeps his hand moving all the time, and as he recovers he watches Thomas panting unsteadily and increasingly quickly. Thomas is ravishing. His lips parted, his eyes closing again. It’s not long before he gives a long moan, his face screwed up with pleasure as he leans into Jimmy’s body. His forehead presses on Jimmy’s collarbone, which is not entirely comfortable, but Jimmy realises that this is Thomas’s orgasm so he doesn’t redirect him.

Once he’s finished, Thomas sighs contentedly. He wraps one arm around Jimmy and coaxes him round for them to lie next to each other. Jimmy’s in front and Thomas curls around him. “That were lovely,” Thomas says quietly, pressing his face against the back of Jimmy’s neck.

Jimmy has no words. One of Thomas’s hands is resting on his chest, so he entwines their fingers together tightly.

“At least I’ve done one good thing by meeting up with you,” Thomas adds sleepily. “Your phone bill’s gonna be cheaper now.”

“Shut it, you,” Jimmy mumbles. He feels Thomas smirking against his neck.

“Make me.”

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't set out to write trans Thomas, but that's what happened.
> 
> Bonus facts that didn't fit into the fic: Mark is the first name Thomas tried when he started socially transitioning. Scott is the second. Thomas is the third, that he sticks with.


End file.
